Tales from the Taxi

The climax of taxi conversations is when I reveal that I study religion. The driver taxi is usually quick to give me his own view of the subject, usually assuming I'm Christian and weaving the conservation accordingly. Considering the potential misunderstandings were I to reveal that I wasn't Christian--or the disrespect if I pretended to be Muslim--I usually let the assumption stand.

One night I decided to be honest. "Are you Christian?" the taxi driver asked, as he accelerated into a particularly large road-bump.

"No," I responded. As I tried to mentally formulate where I was going with this conversation, I was suprised when the taxi driver asked, "Why not?"

This was a simple question, but it was not easy. Knowing the limitations of my Arabic, I offered simply, "I don't believe that Jesus was God." I assumed that the taxi driver and I might agree on this point.

He offered no immediate approval, and was instead silent as he accelerated on an empty road. I ran the sentence through my head again to ensure that I had said it correctly. I saw no error. Slowly, quietly, the taxi driver said, "Of course Jesus was God."

I couldn't believe my mistake. Five percent of Jordanians are Orthodox Christian, and it was naive of me to assume I was speaking with a Muslim. Recalling his confusion about my religious identity, my fears where cemented. I began to mutter nonsense apologies.

He interrupted me. "But so was Muhammad."

This was new. Islamic theology has always been incredibly careful to avoid deifying its central prophet. I had nothing to say on the heels of a such a comment that seemed to contradict everything that Islam stood for. Instead all I could say was an inarticulate "Laish?" Why?

"But Abraham was God too. So am I, and so are you." He pointed to a girl walking outside, "And so is she." He honked his horn. "And so is the steering-wheel." Sensing my confusion he quoted the Qur'an, "To Allah is the East and the West, and wherever you turn, there is the face of God." (2.115)

He stopped abruptly in front of my house. "Welcome to God," he said as I slung my broken backback over my shoulder. Then he drove away into the night.